


Unfinished HP fics

by SkeletonHellflame



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Female Harry Potter, Good Slytherins, Harry is not a Potter, House of Gaunt, House of Peverell, Master of Death Harry Potter, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slytherin Harry Potter, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Werewolf Harry Potter, alternate universe - dimension travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 13:33:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22116835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkeletonHellflame/pseuds/SkeletonHellflame
Summary: HP fanfics I've started and left unfinished due to either abandoning them or waiting further inspiration.Includes the first two versions of howOf the Blackcould have begun before I settled for the one I did.
Comments: 22
Kudos: 68





	1. Of the Black - version 1

**Author's Note:**

> Version one of _Of the Black_ as the title implies, I didn't get far before I abandoned this idea.

Allie turned six years old that day and it was celebrated by sending her out in the garden to weed the flower beds. She didn’t mind that chore so much, as it allowed her to be outside and weeding was easy enough once she had learned to differentiate between weeds and flowers.

She vaguely hoped that she would meet one of the snakes that frequented the garden, they were interesting to listen to even though they didn’t speak of much other than their lives. It was simple being a snake, she thought.

Being busy with tugging at a particularly stubborn weed prevented her from noticing someone approaching, something she rarely allowed herself to do as it would mean the difference in receiving a beating or not by her large cousin.

“Why are you weeding?” a male voice suddenly asked in a tone of voice Allie had a hard time interpreting.

Allie lost her grip of the weed, fell over with a squeak and quickly got back up on her feet, hiding her dirty hands behind her back. She glanced up at the man briefly, through her fringe, before looking down again. He seemed to be awfully well dressed, looking out of place on middle class Privet Drive.

“Aunt Petunia told me to,” she answered quietly.

The man muttered something under his breath that Allie didn’t quite catch, before he crouched down in front of the small girl to get closer to her eye level and make himself seem less threatening.  
“Is your aunt inside?” he asked gently.

Allie nodded. She knew she shouldn’t speak to strangers, but this stranger looked oddly familiar and he had entered the Dursley’s garden. Maybe he was someone the Dursley’s knew? She rarely, if ever, got to meet any of their visitors as she was always shut inside her cupboard and told not to make a sound.

The man seemed to hesitate, or maybe Allie hadn’t given him the answer he wanted, she didn’t know.

“I am Orion Black,” he finally said.

“Allie,” she squeaked. She had recently been called Allie by her aunt, which was a much better name than Freak or Girl.

Mr Black looked at her for a moment longer, searching for who knows what, before he slowly rose to his full height.  
“Let us go inside and speak with your aunt,” he said.

Allie was torn. She had been told to weed the garden and not come inside before it was done and she had only gotten halfway, she didn’t want to be punished for it being unfinished. She hadn’t eaten at all that day and hoped that the finished chore would result in  _ something  _ to eat.  
She bit her lip.

“Come, you will wish to hear what I will speak with her of,” Mr Black added when he noticed her indecisiveness.  
It took everything he had to not just take her and leave, he needed to do this the right way and the girl needed to know. She needed to be allowed to make her own decision.

“Okay,” Allie finally said, but didn’t move until Mr Black did.

Mr Black stepped aside and gestured to the door, silently urging Allie to announce his presence to Petunia Dursley.

Allie opened the door and stepped inside.  
“Aunt Petunia?” she said cautiously. “Mr Black wants to speak with you.”


	2. Of the Black - version 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second version of _Of the Black_ that got a bit farther than the first, before I abandoned the idea.

Petunia woke up, got dressed and began preparing breakfast as she did every morning. Nothing told her that this morning would be any different, at least until she opened the front door to put the empty milk bottles on the doorstep.

She let out a shriek that she only barely managed to keep at an acceptable level; on her doorstep was a  _ young child _ .  
She quickly and carefully scooped the child up, after depositing the bottles of course, and grabbed the letter that accompanied the child.

After putting the child on the couch and carefully sitting down nearby, she began reading the letter.

A letter informing her of  _ her sister’s death _ and that she now was supposed to care for her niece; Allie Potter. As well as Allie’s date of birth, not much else.

Instantly utter disdain for the child rose up within her, before she paused and shook herself. That didn’t make sense. Sure, she didn’t have the best relation with her sister, but they had begun repairing their relationship. In no way should she feel any form of animosity for her niece, there was something clearly wrong with all of this.

She glanced down at the letter again, squinting at it as though trying to read between the lines to find some explanation to her odd feelings.  
Her eyes widened, surely there weren’t any  _ compulsions  _ on the letter? What purpose would that serve? Surely… no, that didn’t bear thinking of.

She needed to speak with Vernon about this and decide on a course of action, she also knew that she couldn’t allow her husband to touch the letter. There was no guarantee that he would be able to shake the compulsion, she had to warn him of it.  
She nodded decisively.

Moments later, she heard the telltale sounds of Vernon getting up and getting himself ready for the coming work day.  
Soon enough, he made his way down and found his wife on the couch, clutching a letter in her hands.

“Pet?” he asked with uncertainty when he spotted the child that clearly was not theirs.

“My sister has died,” Petunia whispered, finally having been able to truly register the fact that her sister was no more, she began to cry. “This is her daughter, Allie.”

Vernon made his way to her and embraced her when she rose up to meet him. Allowing her to cry on his shoulder as he tried to sooth her.

Dudley decided to wake up with a scream at that moment.

Petunia sniffed and released her hold of her husband, while visibly forcing her grief back to be processed at a later point.  
“Will you bring him?” she asked, her voice wavering. “I’ll keep an eye on Allie.”

“Of course, Pet,” Vernon replied gently before making his way back up to retrieve their son.

Allie had begun to blink her eyes open and quietly started to fuss.  
Petunia carefully lifted the child up, whispering nonsense at her to calm her down as she waited for her husband and son. If she was hugging the child closer when she saw the green eyes, there was no one there to comment on it.

Soon they were all seated around their kitchen table and eating their breakfast; Dudley on his highchair and Allie on Petunia’s lap.  
Dudley was staring avidly at the new addition at the table, having never seen her before.

Vernon cleared his throat.  
“What should we do?” he asked carefully. “We have our hands full with our Dudders.”

“I’m certain the Potter she married should have magical relatives,” Petunia answered. “We can’t be her only relatives alive and we certainly aren’t equipped to care for a magical child. We wouldn’t even know what to do if there’s accidental magic!”

“Is there any way to find out?”

“I think Lily mentioned that Gringotts, their Bank, could help in cases like this.”

“Can you manage on your own with two children, or do you want me to take the day off and aid you?”

“No, I think I can manage it. We need all the money we can get if it would turn out that we have to take Allie in.”

  
  
Once Vernon left for work, Petunia started preparing the two children for a trip to London. Unfortunately Dudley’s stroller would only be able to hold him, she would have to carry Allie in a baby carrier.  
Only problem to solve now, was to figure out how to get to London. They owned only one child safety seat, thus couldn’t take her car.

Bus it would have to be.

The trip to London took longer than Petunia would have liked and she didn’t like how some people looked at her oddly, she couldn’t figure out the reason why they did. Both Allie and her Dudders were perfectly well behaved, neither making much of a fuss despite all the noise around them.

Finally at Charing Cross Road, she started searching for the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron and hoping that she would be able to see it.  
It had been a great many years since she had seen the establishment and it was no wonder that it took her a little longer than preferred to find it.

Taking a deep breath, she went inside. Only there did she remember that she wasn’t sure how she would enter Diagon Alley.  
She took a chance and asked the bartender, hoping that he would be accommodating.

“Pardon me, but could you open the gate to the Alley?” she inquired.

“Of course, ma’am!” the old bartender replied cheerfully, making his way quickly to the small courtyard behind the pub and did as was asked. “If you don’t mind me saying so, I thought one of your children was muggleborn but both are too young to have started displaying any accidental magic and too young to find out about the magical world.”

“I’m a squib,” Petunia lied and left it at that. “Thank you for your help.”  
Barely waiting for the bartender’s reply, she walked out into the Alley and steered her way towards the large white building she knew to be Gringotts.

Fortunately, the Alley wasn’t too crowded and she could easily make her way to the bank, where she stiffly nodded at the Goblins standing outside - unsure whether to pay them some form of respect or to ignore their presence but settling for the safer route.  
She skimmed the warning, before taking another strengthening breath and walked inside.

The inside of the building was as impressive and intimidating as she remembered from the visit when Lily was 11.  
Carefully walking up to an unoccupied teller, she cleared her throat in a vague attempt at gaining the Goblin’s attention.

“Yes?” the Goblin drawled with a sneer, but Petunia assumed that it was simply how they were and did her best not to let it discourage her.

“This morning, I found my niece on my doorstep with a letter telling me that I need to care for her,” Petunia started. “I wish to know if she has any wixen relatives more equipped to care for a wixen child, than a mere muggle.”

The Goblin’s eyes narrowed.  
“On your doorstep?” he asked slowly, before demanding; “Do you have the letter with you?”

Petunia nodded and carefully, so not to jostle the slumbering Allie too much, got the letter out of her handbag. She hesitated;  “I suspect that there are compulsions on it,” she finally said.

“Not to worry, ma’am,” the Goblin answered with a nasty smile, before unfolding the letter and giving it his attention.  
He nodded at something, before turning and barking something in his language.

A new Goblin made his way to them and was thrust the letter and the order;  
“Take her to Silvertooth and hand him this letter.”

The new Goblin nodded and turned briefly to Petunia;  “Follow me.”

Petunia hurried after him, deeper into the bank were the marble turned to cave walls that were still decorated with intricate designs and depictions of what she assumed were Goblin Wars and Battles from the past.

Finally they reached a door with Silvertooth’s name carved on a golden plate, the unnamed new Goblin opened one of the vast doors and ushered her inside the office before following her.  
He gave the letter to Silvertooth and was soon dismissed, after a short conversation between them in their own language. Gobbledegook, Petunia thought Lily had called it.

Petunia carefully lowered Allie off her back and gently put the child on her lap, letting Dudley be in his stroller. Hoping that he would continue to sleep and that Allie wouldn’t begin to fuss now that she was waking up from the jostling.

“Your business here,” Silvertooth essentially demanded.

“I found my niece on my doorstep this morning with that letter, telling me to care for her,” Petunia started. “I wish to know if Allie has relatives in the Wixen world more equipped to care for her needs, I cannot be the only relative she has left.”

Silvertooth’s eyes narrowed dangerously. Goblins rarely cared about Wixen, but a young child was a different matter and that someone had left one on the doorstep in the beginning of November was beyond atrocious! Who knew how long she had been there!

He unfolded the letter and read through it, he felt the malicious compulsions on the parchment and was surprised that the woman before him had managed to shake them off.  
“To find relatives to the child, we will need her blood,” he finally said. “For a fee, of course.”

“I only have Pounds, but that can be converted?” Petunia spoke hesitantly.

“That is no issue. Five Galleons, or thirty five Pounds, for a simple genealogy test.”

Petunia nodded and dug through her handbag for her wallet, counting out the money she needed. Fortunately she had had the foresight to take out money before the visit, knowing that she would need it at the Bank.

“How will this test be conducted?”

“We will need to make a small cut on one of her fingers, we will only need three drops of blood.” Silvertooth put a parchment and a ceremonial knife on the desk. “As she is too young to do it herself, you will hold her while I cut her finger. Do not worry, I will heal the wound.”

“Will it hurt?”

“No, it will not.”

Petunia nodded and rose up with Allie in her arms, holding her slightly over the desk. She didn’t wish to insult the Goblin by staying too far away, nor come too close.  
She watched as Silvertooth gently grabbed one of Allie’s hands and made a small cut on her finger, allowing three drops of blood fall onto the parchment before he healed the cut - as he had promised.

Silvertooth cleaned the knife as Petunia sat back down again, after seeing that something started to appear on the parchment.

Once it seemed to be done, the Goblin picked up the parchment and his eyebrows lifted infinitesimally - Petunia wouldn’t have noticed hadn’t she been looking at him.  
“Now that is unexpected,” he muttered and glanced back up at Petunia.

“What is?” Petunia asked, feeling a sense of dread.

“You  _ are  _ Petunia Rose Dursley, née Evans, are you not?”

“Yes.” Petunia was starting to feel bewildered by this sudden turn.

“Were you aware that you are a Squib?”

Petunia stared at Silvertooth for several moments as she processed this new information.  “W-what?” she whispered.

“Your grandfather, Marius Evans, was born a Selwyn and a Squib. He was left in the Muggle world once his family realised that he did not have any form of magic. Your grandmother, Hadriana Evans, née Hunt, is the daughter of another Squib of the Prewett family.”

Petunia didn’t know what to do with this information. She wished she knew if her father had known this, or if Lily had been made aware of it after she had entered the Wixen world.

“Your son, David Dudley Dursley, has a potential to be a Wix.”

Petunia glanced at her son who was blinking his eyes open as though aware that they were speaking of him. This was not anything she had expected. She had been under the belief that her sister was a Muggleborn, but now it turned out she was closer to a Half-blood?  
Yet, suddenly, there was a chance that her own son could be one as well?

She would need to contemplate this further once she was back home.  “What of Allie?” she asked.

“She is not a Potter, as this letter claimed. Her name is Alcyone Cassiopeia Black, daughter of Lily Marigold Black, née Evans, and Sirius Orion Black.”

Petunia blinked.  
“I thought she married Potter?” she said hesitantly, suddenly very confused.

“No, she married Heir Black.”

Deciding on letting that matter be for the moment, she asked what she had come there for.  “Are there any other Blacks out there, still?”

Silvertooth grinned. “Oh, there are plenty; Heir Black among them, likewise are there his parents and Lord Black. Young Alcyone’s closest relatives.”

“Why— why isn’t she with her father?”

“He is currently in Azkaban, he is said to have betrayed ‘the Potters’ to the Dark Lord.” The quotations were nearly audible in the Goblin’s voice. “They claim that he killed their other friend, Peter Pettigrew, along with a number of Muggles last night and thrown into prison.”

Petunia looked aghast. “What of a trial?!”

Silvertooth sneered. “There will most likely be none, they claim his words to be good enough, they say he admitted to the crime.”


	3. Back in Time - abandoned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Amarantha is thrown back in time before her 5th year to the Riddle Era.
> 
> Abandoned the idea because I ran out of inspiration and motivation for it.  
> Charlus and Dorea are James' parents in this 'verse.

Amarantha landed with a thud and a groan. She was feeling nauseous, dizzy and everything seemed to ache, she barely even registered the other sounds around her before she allowed unconsciousness take her.

~*~

She awoke with a jerk, adrenaline rushing through her veins. She was laying on an unfamiliar bed, in an equally unfamiliar room.

“Awake, she is,” an unfamiliar voice croaked. “Inform master and mistress, I will.”

Amarantha jerked her head around just in time to see an unfamiliar house elf disappear with a resounding  _ crack _ . She slowly and cautiously sat up and looked around the room, looking for a potential escape.  
She put her feet on the floor and made an attempt at standing up, only to fall back down again. Nausea and dizziness returned full force, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten much at all the past few days before… whatever had happened.

All she remembered was wandering around, postponing her return to No. 4 Privet Drive for the night and the next thing she knew was a light and everything went black.

The door opened, letting in a woman dressed in typical wizarding wear - although slightly outdated.

“I am Lady Melania Black,” the unknown woman introduced herself while giving Amarantha a pointed look. She was clearly expecting an introduction, making Amarantha wonder if and why she didn’t recognise her.

“... Amarantha,” she whispered, her voice weak with disuse. Her relatives hadn’t wished to hear her speak, merely do as she was told without fuss.

Lady Black narrowed her eyes ever so slightly, she clearly did not approve of merely getting a first name. Her hand snatched forward, grabbing Amarantha by the chin and turning her head this way and that way.  
“Hmmm, you do have Black features…” she mused mostly to herself. “And… Potter…? Your Black blood would explain how you could enter through the wards the way you did.”

Amarantha couldn’t help her look of confusion. She was a Black by blood? Was one of her paternal grandparents a Black?  
She felt a small pang in her chest at not even knowing the names of any of her grandparents. Aunt Petunia never mentioned anything about her side of the family and there seemed to be no one alive to tell her of the Potter side.

Unless everyone was under the impression that she already knew everything. She had heard enough stories of people claiming her to have been raised with magical relatives, rather than the muggle ones she truly had been.

Lady Black’s eyes narrowed again as she released her chin.  
“You do not know your family?” she asked leadingly.

Amarantha merely shook her head and immediately regretted the action. Not only did the nausea increase in strength, she also felt a sudden and roaring headache. She couldn’t quite stop the low whine down her throat as she clutched her face - indecisive whether to clutch her head or slap her hands against her mouth.

Lady Black immediately backed away, she did not fancy the notion of the girl throwing up on her expensive robes. This girl, a potential Black, was odd. She had worn unusual clothes, terribly ill fitting to boot, and looked emaciated.  
She was unsure as to what age the girl could be.

“How old are you, child?” she asked, softening her voice.

“Fifteen,” Amarantha whispered between deep breaths of air to stave off the worst of the nausea.

Lady Black raised a brow. She had not expected the girl to be that old, but suddenly her suspicions of the girl’s home life started to gain more and more evidence.  
It was  _ barely  _ that she could voice those suspicions to herself, she couldn’t fathom how  _ anyone  _ could treat a  _ magical child _ so abysmally.

With that thought, she straightened up and called,  “Daisy!”

With a  _ crack  _ a female House-elf appeared in the room and bowed deeply, Amarantha had flinched at the sound.  
“Yes, mistress?” she squeaked.

“Bring potions for nausea and headache and prepare some light food, broth would be preferred.”

“Yes, mistress!” Daisy bowed again and disappeared with another  _ crack _ .

It didn’t take long before two potion vials appeared on the nightstand by the bed and moments later, the broth as well.

“I suggest that you take the potions and then eat,” Lady Black said, almost ordered.

“Yes, ma’am,” Amarantha whispered, before doing as told. She knocked the potions down as fast as she could, unwilling to endure their foul taste for too long, before carefully beginning to eat. She knew better than to stuff herself after a long period of little or no food.

Meanwhile, Lady Black had taken a seat in a chair present in the room and observed the girl. Her husband would want to know everything she could figure out, or get the girl to tell. He had been present when she had suddenly appeared in their sitting room in a flash of light, the wards  _ shuddering  _ in her wake.

That had been a day ago.

The girl being unresponsive for that long had worried them, Melania was now certain that it had to have been due to lack of food. Their decision to spell nutrients into her had clearly been a wise choice on their part.

Amarantha had finished what she could of the broth during her musing.

“How do you feel, child?”

“Better,” Amarantha answered after a brief hesitation. The potions had done some good, the broth even more so.

“Good,” Lady Black smiled. “Now, freshen yourself up in the bathroom across the hall and come down to the sitting room once you are ready.”  
She patted the girl in the hand as she rose up.

“Yes, ma’am.” Amarantha waited until she was alone in the room, before she carefully got up and went to the mentioned bathroom.  
She locked the door behind her, knowing full well that it meant nothing with magic users around but it did a lot for her mentally.

She spotted a set of robes and guessed that she was meant to wear them for her second meeting with Lady Black and, quite possibly, Lord Black as well.


	4. Dimension - abandoned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fem!Harry who has jumped not only time but dimension and encounters a male version of herself.
> 
> Idea abandoned after I lost any and all motivation and inspiration.

She gazed down on the students as they filed in and when one particular student entered, she almost felt an immediate  _ resentment _ toward him.  
He got a small _childish_ lightning bolt scar on the center of his forehead, while her realistic one marred half her face. She had never been able to hide hers, while he could simply brush down his bangs and cover his.

She ignored everyone’s stares with practiced ease, she knew that the Headmaster would introduce her soon enough. Of course, everyone already guessed (quite correctly) that she was the new DADA professor.  
Then again, she assumed that her appearance raised questions. It wasn’t everyday that you got to see someone with a scar like a true lightning bolt, branching out and all.

Her musings almost made her miss the sorting, only McGonagall’s voice brought her back.

She politely clapped each sorting and showed no sign of any favoritism, not to her own house nor to any other. Of course, according to  _ this  _ Hogwarts, she had never attended the school and should not hold any bias toward any of the houses.  
Then again, Slytherin held a poor reputation even in this world and it was possible that it was expected of her to hold negative feelings toward its students, which was absurd as she had been a Slytherin  _ herself _ . She knew very well that if you kept assuming that children belonging to a certain house were  _ evil _ , they would inevitably end up embracing that and everyone else had long since lost their right to be shocked.

She was pleasantly surprised that in this world, several children who had been  _ only  _ children in her world had siblings here.

Finally the sorting was over and the Headmaster rose up from his throne-like chair.  
“Allow me to introduce your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher; Cassiopeia Peverell!” Dumbledore declared grandly.

She rose up and greeted the students with a regal nod as they clapped. She had practiced it in the mirror, so sue her.  
The blatant  _ stares _ she received from many of the Purebloods were glorious, she had known she would get hilarious reactions from using the Peverell name. Going by Harriet Potter had been out of the question, instead she had chosen one of her middle names and a name that existed long ago on the Potter family tree. She had wanted to use the Black name, but she couldn’t justify it nor did she want to explain how she managed to obtain  _ that  _ name.

Dumbledore’s reaction to her name had been hilarious, she had almost thought he would choke on his lemon drop. Alas, he had not and he had found his composure again, she had been reluctantly impressed.  
She had her suspicions that he had hired her partly in order to keep her close, though his intentions for it were still unclear in her mind. She wasn’t certain whether  _ this _ Dumbledore was as much of a manipulative bastard as the one in her world had been and she sincerely hoped that he wasn’t or she would end up killing him out of  _ spite _ , nevermind that it would invite that idiot calling himself Lord Voldemort and  _ that  _ would force her to kill  _ him  _ as well (though maybe she should do that regardless).

In the middle of her internal musings, the feast had begun and she had mechanically put food on her plate and was mildly surprised that she hadn’t created some kind of food abomination. Her subconscious could be pretty awesome sometimes.

Engaging in small talk with the other professors was pure torture and she longed to be able to return to her quarters and pass out for the night. The classes the next morning would prove  _ interesting _ .  
But first, getting out of this one-sided conversation with Pomona about her plants. She had always been  _ good  _ at Herbology, but she  _ loathed  _ in with a passion. Her lovely relatives had seen to that with them forcing her to tend to their garden and keeping it in pristine condition no matter the weather conditions.


	5. Gaunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another fem!Harry who time and dimension travels to a world with a male version of herself.
> 
> Half tempted to continue this someday.

She went by Lady Amarantha of the House of Gaunt and hadn’t it been a trip and a half to find out that her mother had been born as _Melantha Gaunt_ before she had been adopted by the Evans family and renamed Lily Evans.  
There was no one still alive who could shed any light on it all and she wasn’t even certain her mother had been _aware_ that she was a _Gaunt_. Truth be told, what she couldn’t wrap her mind around was that Morfin was her maternal grandfather and that her grandmother had _somehow_ gotten involved with the inbred fool.

According to Amarantha’s calculations, her mother would have to have been conceived while he was in Azkaban. She also knew that her grandmother was a fair bit younger than Morfin, despite having a child later than most of that generation.

It was mind blowing and Amara prefered not to think too deeply on it for the sake of her own sanity.

Learning all this when she was 19 when Gringotts Bank contacted her and more or less threatened to come to the bank in order to pay for the damages she and her friends had caused during the Horcrux hunt. Truth be told, she hadn’t expected to walk out alive.  
Arriving at the Bank had given her a lovely entourage of armed Goblins who herded her to the Chieftain, Ragnok.

She endured threats to her life with a calm someone who had faced down Voldemort several times and lived to tell the tale; in other words, not particularly intimidated. That despite the Goblins would make her suffer terribly before killing her (as if she hadn’t endured a form of torture at the Dursley’s for _sixteen years_ ).

The demand that she had to do a heritage test to determine how many Vaults and how much Galleons she had to her name came as a surprise as she had been under the impression that the Bank knew. In hindsight, it had been a ridiculous assumption on her part.

Finding out that her mother was a _Gaunt_ came out of left field, and a Pure-blood to boot.  
The number of Vaults to her name came as a second shock. Among others she had the Potter, Black (thank you Sirius), Selwyn (through her maternal grandmother) and Travers (through her paternal grandmother) Vaults.  
It had silenced the Goblins and they grudgingly admitted that she had more than enough to pay for the damages several times over.

She had walked out in a daze. She was richer than she could even imagine—even _after_ paying the Bank—and she had a ridiculous amount of Ladyships.  
With her titles of Girl-Who-Lived and the newer Woman-Who-Conquered (what was it with the Wizarding World and they _stupid_ hyphenated titles?!) along with her Ladyships, she was one of the most powerful people in Britain’s Wizarding World.

Now, all of that meant jack shit right now. Why? A stupid accident in the Department of Mysteries had landed her in what she had identified as a parallel universe.  
A universe where she was… a he. Named Harry Potter of all things. Harry wasn’t even a _nickname_. Of course, she hadn’t replaced him or any such thing, rather that she existed alongside him. Older, for certain. Thank Morgana, she was still her thirty-five-year-old self.

The problem was that she couldn’t just walk in an claim to be a Potter, a _Pure-blood_ Potter. Thus, she had walked into Gringotts and more or less demanded a private room and named all the Goblins in charge of all her Vaults in her universe, wanting them all present.  
To her surprise (hidden of course, she wasn’t stupid), she had gotten it within the hour.

To her delight, she had managed to shock every single Goblin present with her story and the subsequent heritage test they demanded her to perform. Said test had shown every single title she possessed, every single Ladyship she had inherited—or been gifted after her initial supposed defeat of the Dark Lord Voldemort.

The Goblins had been uncertain what to address her as and she gave them permission to simply call her Lady Amarantha (Goblins were notoriously formal beings) for everyone’s sanity. She had never gone by all her titles, it would have been ridiculous and would take up too much time to mention them all.

Finally they reached the point of this meeting; she needed to create a new identity with their help. For a fee, of course.  
Fortunately, she always carried a pouch with a… substantial amount of Galleons and it had arrived in this universe with her, much like everything else on her person (thank Circe). It was more than enough to pay for the Goblins’ help.

First they had to narrow down the families she could become a part of in this universe. Potter and Black were immediately excluded for rather obvious reasons.

The ancient looking Account manager for the Gaunt Vault have her a shrewd look and managed to convince her to become Lady Amarantha, of the House of Gaunt. The thought of pissing off her dear old Uncle Tom was too tempting to pass off. To secure more money, she even managed to become the Lady of Houses Travers and Selwyn.  
As a final middle finger to dearest Uncle Tommy, she claimed Ladyship of the House of Slytherin through her Gaunt Ladyship. It was his own fault for not having claimed the Lordships, allowing her to take them from him without much trouble.

For being someone claimed to have been a _genius_ , he sure was stupid. There was no reason why he couldn’t have become Lord of both Houses, at least as far as she could tell.

That was until she found out that you had to be a Pure-blood to claim the Lordship, otherwise you could only claim the Heirship. The Goblins took great delight in informing her of this, as well as informing her of the… temper tantrum Tommy-boy had thrown when he found out. It was _hilarious_.

As a parting gift for their generous help, she informed them of the Horcrux hidden in one of their Vaults and she was informed in turn that they would deal with it.

Once she had dealt with all of that, she hired some other Goblins to help her make the Slytherin Mansion habitable after having been abandoned close to two centuries. Whilst they dealt with that, she made herself at home at the Leaky Cauldron and started planning for her continued stay in the wrong universe. If having been an Unspeakable for over a decade had taught her anything, was that it was a freak accident that had gotten her here and that it most likely wasn’t reversible.  
Hence making herself comfortable and planning. She would love to disrupt the plans of both her dear Uncle (now her assumed _Cousin_ ) and the old goat.

Dumbledore of her world, had screwed her over big time and she didn’t care if this world’s Dumbledore was a better person or not, she would still oppose him. She was petty like that.

Thus, she had fought hard to claim her place in the Wizengamot and sincerely hoped that events would play out much like it did in her world.  
Harry was sure to be fifteen by now and soon accosted by Dementors, forcing him to use the Patronus to chase them off. If the Ministry was as stupid as she thought it was, he would be facing the entire Wizengamot for it—much like she had.  
  


______________________________  
  


She hated that she was right.  
The Ministry was indeed as stupid as she had assumed, the Minister more so.

She was seated in a courtroom in the lower levels of the Ministry, with the rest of the Wizengamot surrounding her and poor Harry sitting alone far below them.  
She couldn’t help but wonder if she had looked as pitiful as he did. Those ridiculous glasses and the unruly hair sticking out every which way didn’t make it any better, at least she wasn’t visually impaired (thank Merlin) and she had early on weighed down the unruliness of her curls with sheer length.

Ah, there was Dumbledore. Entering the courtroom like a knight in shining armour, yet refusing to speak or even look directly at poor Harry who was understandably feeling lost and confused.

Finally, she had had enough of all this posturing and pissing contest and cleared her throat.

“Lady Gaunt,” the Minister said, “you have the floor.”

_Thank you, you imbecile_. “Why don’t we view Heir Potter’s memory of the incident?” she asked and without letting the Minister speak she continued. “It should give us sufficient evidence whether or not he committed a punishable crime and I highly doubt that he is capable of manipulating his memory of the event.”

The Minister sputtered, but couldn’t come up with a suitable argument as to why they couldn’t and several other members of the court murmured in agreement with her.

“Yes. Fine,” the Minister bit out. “If Lady Gaunt could be so kind to assist the boy?”

“Certainly,” Amarantha replied and rose up with grace, or as much grace as anyone dressed in garish plum coloured robes could. Merlin, she loathed them.

“We wouldn’t wish to inconvenience Lady Gaunt with such a simple task, I could perform it in her stead,” Dumbledore tried to intervene. His very brief pause before her surname hadn’t gone unnoticed by her.

“Certainly not!” the Minister exclaimed and hastened to come up with a suitable reason. “We wouldn’t risk you tampering with it somehow.”

By then, Amarantha had already made her way down to the floor and approached young Harry. By Morgana did he look miserable.  
Telegraphing her movements as she slowly pulled out her wand, she spoke soothingly to him. “If you would think of the event from when it started to when it ended, I will do the rest.”

Harry looked warily at her before he nodded and, with a deep breath, closed his eyes.

Amarantha pulled out a strand of memory, placed it in a conjured jar in an obvious show for the rest of the Wizengamot, before making her way to the large pensieve at the foot of the court and poured down the memory.  
With a light touch from her wand, the memory played itself out in a projection before the assembled—she loved these pensieves.

They all saw how Harry and his cousin were attacked by what clearly was two Dementors, saw him use a corporeal Patronus to chase them off and the memory ended with the arrival of Arabella Figg.

Amarantha made quick work of returning the memory to Harry while the Wizengamot spoke amongst themselves. The Minister had turned a lovely shade of purple that somehow clashed _horribly_ with his plum coloured robe.

It didn’t take long for the majority of the Wizengamot to find Harry innocent of all charges, but before the Minister could dismiss them all she spoke up.  
“Since we are all gathered here, I wish to claim guardianship of young Heir Potter.”

Silence.

“I am his Magical Guardian,” Dumbledore had to butt in and didn’t seem to notice Harry’s startled look.

“Ah, yes, but you are not a relative of his,” Amarantha replied calmly. “My mother was born a Travers and young Harry’s paternal grandmother’s maiden name was the same. His father was thus my cousin and I am _appalled_ that no one thought to seek me out after the unfortunate death of his parents.

I was only recently made aware that he does not, in fact, live with any magical relative and have since tried to find him to no avail.”

In preparation, she had indeed sent out investigators to find Harry and was impressed that none of them had managed to find hide nor hair of the boy’s whereabouts. Of course, she knew where he lived, but she couldn’t just waltz in and whisk him away. Truth be told, she wasn’t certain what she would do if she met this world’s Dursleys and wished to avoid them for as long as humanly possible.  
Fortunately—or not—the only people who knew where Harry lived were the Headmaster and those working at the Improper Use of Magic division of the DMLE and none of them were likely to give out his exact address, supposedly for his _protection_.

Dumbledore looked as though he had sucked on a particularly sour lemon.  
“I was not aware that he had any other living relatives other than his maternal Aunt,” he said.

“Clearly, you did not do your research, unless you had other reasoning for placing the boy with his Muggle Aunt.” She levelled a pointed look at the Headmaster and noted with satisfaction that he was irritated with her despite his admirable attempt at hiding it. “If this was a simple mistake on your part, it shouldn’t be hard to undo it and let the boy remain with a magical relative and thus keep him in the magical world.”

“The boy already lives with loving relatives and I am certain that he does not wish to part from them,” the old goat had the _gall_ to say.

Amarantha saw Harry stiffening and the fear in his eyes, clearly he didn’t have a good life with his maternal family. “Why don’t we let Harry decide if he wishes to remain with them?” she inquired sweetly. “He may still be underaged, but he is old enough to decide which relative he wishes to live with. Don’t you agree, Minister?”

“Yes, yes, let the boy decide,” he muttered.

Harry looked between them all and bit his lip, while Amarantha did her best to look kind and open.

“I— I would like to live with Lady Gaunt and, and see if I want her to be my Guardian,” he finally stammered in a surprising show of cunning.

Then again, Amarantha mused, abused children developed a certain kind of cunning in order to avoid punishment at any cost. She knew it far too well, it had landed her in Slytherin in her world after all despite her trying to avoid it.  
She levelled a quick glare at Dumbledore for daring to use his patented ‘ _I am disappointed in you_ ’-look at Harry, before turning her attention to the assembled Wizengamot for their verdict.

“Very well,” the Minister began, “as we all wish to keep our families close, young Harry is under the pending Guardianship of Lady Amarantha Gaunt for the next… three weeks before either its finalisation or Harry moving back in with his maternal Aunt.” With those words, he hit the gavel and dismissed them all.

Dumbledore swiftly left the room without speaking with anyone ( _good riddance_ ) and the Wizengamot started to file out.

“I am sorry for taking this long to find out where you were,” Amarantha said apologetically. “Had I known, I would have tried to find you much earlier.”

“It’s okay,” Harry mumbled.

“It certainly is not, is your Aunt even treating you well?” she asked. “You are all skin and bones!”

Harry looked like a deer caught in the headlights and Amarantha waved it off. He really needed to learn to mask his emotions and stop wearing them on his sleeve.  
“We can discuss this at home once we have gotten your belongings and away from any eavesdroppers.”

Harry looked briefly relieved. “Uhm, I think Mr Weasley is waiting for me,” he said. “He was the one who brought me here.”

“Come on then, let’s not keep him waiting any further.”  
She gently ushered him out and they quickly found a wide eyed Arthur Weasley, who was clearly shocked to see that the _entirety_ of the _Wizengamot_ had been present at Harry’s _disciplinary hearing_ which normally only involved a _handful_ of people.

Arthur barely managed to open his mouth, before Harry announced that he was cleared of all charges and effectively derailing whatever Arthur had been about to say.

“That’s wonderful news!” he exclaimed. “Let’s get you back to G— to the others.” He had belatedly noticed Lady Gaunt standing near Harry and had to quickly stop himself from saying something he shouldn’t—not that he could mention 12 Grimmauld Place to anyone not knowing the Secret.

Then again, Amarantha already knew the address and was pleasantly surprised that having found out about the address by another version of Dumbledore and having been Secret Keeper herself counted even in this world. Something she would not reveal to anyone.

“Ah, Lady Gaunt! To what do we owe the pleasure?” Arthur bowed slightly.

“I’m afraid that young Harry’s belongings need to be brought to him, as I have been named his Guardian for the next couple of weeks until he decides whether he wishes to stay with me or with his maternal Aunt,” Amarantha said pleasantly.

Arthur blinked in confusion and turned to Harry.

“She’s my dad’s cousin,” Harry explained with a shrug.

“Euphemia was my Aunt,” Amarantha added further. “Now, I would greatly appreciate if you would aid us in getting Harry’s belongings.”

Mr Weasley stammered a response and promised that he would contact his wife, Amarantha assured him that they would be waiting at the Leaky Cauldron in an hour—thus providing sufficient time for gathering Harry’s belongings.

Without further ado, Amarantha swept out of the Ministry with a scrambling Harry at her heels.  
Flooing to the Leaky proved to her that Harry truly needed to practice his exits, she was certain she couldn’t have been as clumsy (though certainly not graceful) when she was his age.

  
______________________________  
  


“I assume that you haven’t received your Hogwarts letter yet,” Lady Gaunt said as they entered Diagon. “Thus we will simply get you a proper casual, and formal, wardrobe and return later for your books and anything else you may need for your coming year.”

“Uhm… I have clothes,” Harry tried to object.

Lady Gaunt waved him off. “I meant clothes that fit, clothes that doesn’t look as though they’ve been worn for too long by a half-giant before being given to you,” she said dismissively and pretended not to notice Harry’s embarrassed blush. “Come along, Twilfitt and Tattings will suit our needs.”

Once again, Harry was left to scramble after her and did his best to stay on her tail through the crowds of Diagon Alley. He did not like the suspicious or pitying looks people sent him and he knew it was due to everything the _Prophet_ had written about him.  
A part of him hoped that Lady Gaunt would do something about it, while another part of him loathed the idea and doubted that any adult would do something like that for him.


	6. Peverell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Master of Death Harry goes back in time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story actually has seven short chapters and was written for fun and isn't meant to be taken too seriously. Merely as something I poke at when I want to write something simpler.
> 
> Question is, should I post the rest too?

###  Chapter One

Tom looked up from his book and looked out the window, just in time to spot a woman coming to visit the orphanage. He couldn’t make out much due to her umbrella, nothing more than a dark dress and a coat.

He didn’t hold much hope of being adopted, the few who had seemed willing had always been scared off by Mrs Cole’s stories. They always painted him in the worst light.  
Hence, his waiting for all the other orphans to rush past before he sedately followed them into the “playroom” where they were supposed to be on their very best behaviour. Anything to be the next one adopted.

Tom sat down in his usual corner, placing his book against his knees and prepared himself to be unseen and undesired.

Soon enough, far too soon in Tom’s opinion, he heard Mrs Cole’s simpering voice and barely registered the odd tone underneath. Almost as though she was intimidated by the other and yet… not.  
Tom was only eight, but he already knew he had a hard time understanding or deciphering some emotions and figured that this was one of those times.

When Mrs Cole and the unknown woman entered, the first thing he registered was the woman’s hair; it was the colour of wildfire.  
Once she turned to gaze upon the children gathered, Tom saw her eyes that were  _ green _ like death.

He scrunched up his brow ever so slightly. Green like death? Death was not green. Death was black like rot. Death was white like bone. It was not green.  
The thought refused to leave.

The woman smiled softly, it looked off on her. It looked real, yet it was as though it didn’t belong on her face.

Her presence, however. Everyone closest to her seemed to fidget and Mrs Cole seemed to slowly shrink where she stood next to her. No one seemed to notice.  No one seemed to truly  _ register _ the primal  _ fear _ the woman inspired in them all, it was as though Tom was the only one who did.  
Still, he stayed were he was like a fool.

“Children, this is Mrs Peverell and is looking to adopt one of you,” Mrs Cole informed them. “Be nice.”  
Her last words were aimed primarily at Tom himself and he knew it, she always thought the worst of him.

“Hello children,” Mrs Peverell said, her voice was deceptively soft and melodic.

“Hello missus Peverell,” the majority of the children replied in some semblance of a chorus.

Tom observed only for so long that he saw Mrs Peverell  _ glide _ further into the room and since he knew he wouldn’t be chosen, he returned to his book.

Thus it came as a shock, a few minutes later, when Mrs Peverell was suddenly crouched in front of him. He ruthlessly suppressed the urge to jump and merely twitched instead. He hadn’t even  _ heard _ her approach, hadn’t heard her crouch down. Silent as the grave, was his immediate thought.

“Hello child,” she said with a light grin, as though she knew very well what he had thought.

“Hello,” he replied. What else could he do in the presence and under the direct scrutiny of this woman who exuded _danger_ in a way no one else had ever done  
Still, it was as though the danger wasn’t directed _at_ _him_? It made no sense at all.

“That is Tom, ma’am,” Mrs Cole immediately intervened, “he’s something of a… he’s not a kind child. He’s always in the midst of everything bad happening here.”

Tom had barely the time to scowl at Mrs Cole, before Mrs Peverell spoke. It was clear that she spoke to the matron of the orphanage but her gaze did not waver from Tom’s face.

“He’s perfect.”

Mrs Cole sputtered at this proclamation, she couldn’t believe that anyone would consider Tom anything other than a devil in human form and tried to inform Mrs Peverell of this.

The latter who silenced the matron with a single raised hand and the air seemed to cool by several degrees as she rose up, just as silently as before, and turned in a manner that felt eerie yet graceful. There seemed to have been none of the required leg movements for such an action and Tom was reminded of how she had  _ glided _ into the room rather than walked.

“I will have this child,” she said. Her soft tone had an undercurrent of steel and it was clear she expected obedience and nothing less.

###  Chapter Two

Tom wasn’t sure what to expect of being chosen by Mrs Peverell and deemed  _ perfect _ by her, despite Mrs Cole’s valiant attempt at dissuading her.

The matron seemed to cower before the other woman. The latter, despite being the shorter one, managed to look down on the elder woman.

“Yes, of course, ma’am,” Mrs Cole finally conceded. “If you would follow me to finalise the adoption papers, of course we need to wait for your husband.” She turned her gaze to Tom and couldn’t quite hide her disgust; “Collect your belongings.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tom responded with a nod. With those words, he rose up from his spot in the corner and briefly observed the two women make their way toward Mrs Cole’s office before he made his way to his room.

He didn’t have much that was deemed  _ his _ and knew it wouldn’t take much time for him to collect them and put them all in the bag that he owned. Much of his wardrobe belonged to the orphanage and thus he only packed the essentials, as well as keeping what he already wore.  
He sincerely hoped that Mrs Peverell would buy him an entire new wardrobe. She looked rich and that kind of people rarely accepted that their ward (or child) would look anything other than cared for, at least cared for in the monetary sense.

After having collected his belongings and double checked that he hadn’t missed anything, he decided that it would be appropriate to make his way back down.  
It ought to have passed enough time for Mrs Peverell’s husband to have arrived and for them to sign the papers. At least in  _ his _ mind it should have been enough time.

Ignoring the other children’s glares as he made his way toward the matron’s office, he began to wonder about the odd feelings he received from the woman. The sheer terror she induced with her mere presence, there was something off with that. No one had ever felt like her and he was usually very good at figuring people out, especially adults.  
Mrs Peverell was an enigma.

She was danger. Except to him, the thought refused to leave him. He had no idea why the danger she exuded wasn’t aimed at him, only at everyone else.  
He couldn’t shake it.

Mere moments after he had arrived before Mrs Cole’s office, he heard her voice;  
“Yes, of course.” A brief pause before the door began to open. “Goodbye Mr and Mrs Peverell!”

Yet, only Mrs Peverell stepped out from the office and she motioned for Tom to follow her.  
He glanced backwards, but saw no sign of a  _ Mr Peverell _ . He glared at his new guardian’s back and wondered what was going on, but it wasn’t until they had exited the orphanage and stepped out on the road that she finally spoke.

“You must have questions, I will answer then when we are at home,” Mrs—Ms?—Peverell said and proceeded to walk to an empty alley, before spinning around to face Tom.

Home. That simple word struck a chord within Tom and he did not wish to examine that yet.  
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied.

Mrs— Ms— Peverell held out her arm.  
“Hold on tight and I suggest closing your eyes and taking a deep breath when I count to three,” she said, or rather ordered.

Tom hesitated briefly, before doing as told. Peverell counted to three and Tom did as she had instructed.

Suddenly it was as though he was forced through a thin straw that lasted for several seconds, before appearing in front of intricate gates.  
He gasped and would have fallen over, hadn’t Peverell held on to him.

“Welcome to Peverell Manor.”

Tom could _hear_ the capital letter in Manor and quickly looked up.


	7. Lightning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another fem!Harry, featuring Good!Slytherins and Less-of-an-ass!Snape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very tempted to continue this one as well someday.

Cassiopeia Lily Potter was a small slip of a girl with black messy curls falling to her mid back and green green eyes.  
Some said her eyes were green like emeralds. Others said they were green like grass during spring. Later there were those who made another comparison, but that was not now.

Other than her striking eyes, she had another feature that many remarked upon and that was the lightning shaped scar. It wasn’t a childish depiction of a lightning bolt, rather it looked quite realistic and it missed her right eye by millimetres, beginning from her hairline on the middle of her forehead, branching down, and ending near her jaw.  
It marred her otherwise doll-like appearance and many commented on it being _such_ a shame.

Some days Cassiopeia, or Cassi as she preferred, hated her scar and other days she loved it. It made her different from everyone else in Little Whinging, no one had a scar like hers and this was both a blessing and a curse.

Some children liked to pick on her for it, a few were awed.

Cassi’s family, her aunt and her family, were far more cruel however. Her uncle and cousin were the worst in terms of physical harm, her aunt was the worst in terms of psychological harm.  
None of them approved of her unusual scar and claimed that she had gotten it in the accident that killed her parents. The accident that forced them to take her in and… care for her.

No matter how little Cassi wanted to admit it out loud, she knew deep down that the way her relatives treated her was not acceptable. You did not force a young child do all the chores in the house, nor did you force them to sleep in a cramped cupboard under the stairs.  
Cassi cooked, washed dishes, did the laundry, cleaned the house, mowed the lawn, painted the fence... she did everything. Her cousin, meanwhile, only made a nuisance of himself when she tried to complete her impossible list of chores before her uncle came home from work.  
He always did like to watch his father punish the _freak_ for not completing everything in the small time frame she received.

She knew it was useless to complain how unfair it was, it only worsened her punishments and extended her list of chores. All while her cousin laughed in the background.

These things weren’t the only things odd with her life.  
Occasionally she made things… happen. She fixed a broken vase once, another time she suddenly appeared on the roof when her cousin and his gang chased her, yet another time she stopped something from falling. There were a lot of odd occurrences and her relatives were sure to punish her for them would they see them.

One of the oddest occurrences of these unexplainable things happened during her cousin’s eleventh birthday; she spoke to a snake and it replied.  
She was locked in her cupboard for a week with minimal food and water.

It would take a few more weeks before everything was suddenly explained.

She received a letter, a letter she hid and read away from her relatives.

She was no freak, she was _magic_. A _witch_.

She wrote her reply when her relatives were on a shopping trip and the owl that had been perched on the nearest tree took the letter from her. She hoped it went were it should.

The very next day, her aunt started to check the mail and Cassi simply _knew_ that she was looking for that letter she had received. She couldn’t explain it, but it also made her realise that her relatives knew what she was. They had to know, with how they had acted around her and their reactions to her magic.  
It took a lot of self restraint to not confront them, she would only be punished for it and _they_ would know that _she_ knew.

Days passed and no sign if the letter had reached the Deputy Headmistress, Cassi almost started to doubt that it had been real. It was only her relatives’ suspicious behaviour that prevented her from doubting it.

It ended up being on her eleventh birthday that something finally happened.

A knock on the door announced the arrival of the strict looking Professor McGonagall, whose gaze softened ever so slightly when she saw Cassi. Her gaze hardened again when she turned her attention back at Cassi’s relatives and told them that she would take her with her to get her supplies for Hogwarts.

Professor McGonagall apparated them, after informing the young girl what they were about to do, to the Alley -- forgoing the Leaky Cauldron entirely and its nosy visitors.  
Cassi could hardly believe all she was seeing during their walk through the Alley to reach the snow white building called Gringotts, in a show of proper manners she briefly curtsied before the Goblins before hurrying after the professor.

Cassi would never have believed that she owned that much money, but was secretly glad that her relatives had no knowledge of them and was sure that they would have drained her vault dry in no time.  
In a desire to get _nice_ things for herself, she grabbed more money than Professor McGonagall’s recommended minimum. She wanted something more expensive for the first time in her life, she didn’t desire to wear rags any longer.

Being the no-nonsense type of person that the professor was, they didn’t dally. It was only her fitting for school robes and finding a wand (holly, phoenix feather) that took time. Whilst doing the previous, the professor had disappeared briefly and returned with a gorgeous Snowy Owl whom Cassi promptly named Hedwig.

Once the day began to reach its end, Cassi managed to convince Professor McGonagall to let her stay at the Leaky Cauldron until it was time to leave for Hogwarts. She made many promises to be careful, to inform the barkeeper Tom whenever she left or returned and ensured the professor that she wouldn’t leave the safety of the Alley.

That final month before school began, was the best one Cassi had ever experienced. She ventured out into the Alley nearly every day and bought many things that hadn’t been on her school list - a proper wardrobe for herself was one thing she bought. Extra curricular reading was something else, Potions and Defense intrigued her and she desired to know more of both subjects.  
She also bought a book or two that involved her and was promptly disgusted by the blatant lies they sprouted, she wondered if she could sue them for it. She wasn’t certain if anyone would listen to a small 11-year-old, but vowed that she would research it regardless.

On the morning of September 1st, she was allowed to use the Leaky Cauldron’s floo to get to the platform - her exit wasn’t particularly graceful to her dismay. She settled into a compartment, found a way to spell her robes clean (succeeding _relatively_ well after a few tries) and began reading one of her new Potions books that described how to best prepare ingredients.

Around 10:30 she was joined by two girls who introduced themselves as Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones, when Cassi introduced herself the two girls had stared at her for a few moments before treating her like she was a normal girl like them.

Not much happened once the train disembarked, apart from a boy - Neville Longbottom, he introduced himself as - asking if they had seen a toad to which the girls replied with the negative and recommended that he find a Prefect who would be able to help him.

Once they reached Hogsmeade station, the girls held hands in order to stay together and moved toward the booming voice calling for all First Years - where they encountered the largest man they had ever seen.

Seeing the castle on their journey across the Black Lake was awe inspiring, Cassi could only describe it as _magical_.

Cassi couldn’t help but smile in reassurance when they met Professor McGonagall and her gaze seemed to search her for any signs of anything ill having happened to her. Once they had shuffled into a small side room, Cassi listened attentively to the Professor’s speech and huddled closer to her two new tentative friends when she left to check on something or other.  
Neville joined the girls and they helped him make himself more presentable by helping him fasten his cloak properly and fixing his tie.

Cassi ignored the whispers around them, whispers asking about her and was grateful when the other two girls and Neville shielded her from being spotted by the other First Years.

It felt like an age before Professor McGonagall returned and led them through the Great Hall and had them gather in front of the Head Table.  
  


* * *

  
Marcus observed the new First Years and managed to recognise some of the Pureblood children as siblings of his House mates or children of his parents’ acquaintances or rivals.  
There was one small Firstie that caught his attention and he could not help but wonder why she was so much smaller than the rest.

Catching Lucian’s gaze told him that he had noticed the same thing.

He wasn’t surprised that the Abbott and Bones heiresses were sorted into Hufflepuff and clapped politely along with everyone else.

“Bulstrode, Millicent” was the first Slytherin and she was welcomed into their fold.

Crabbe and Goyle being sorted into Slytherin came as a surprise as Marcus had never noticed anything cunning or ambitious about them, but conceded that he could be mistaken. He was well aware of his own reputation within the other Houses; a brute with little intelligence. It was hilariously easy to make them underestimate him.

“Potter, Cassiopeia!” suddenly caught his attention and noticed that everyone else in the Great Hall watched intently as the small black haired girl cautiously walked to the stool and sat down with the Hat as the hat was lowered on her head.

Everyone stared in anticipation and most believed that she would quickly be sorted into Gryffindor, the House of her parents.

A minute passed in silence.

A second minute.

Before the third minute, the Hat straightened out and called out; “ _Slytherin_!”

Marcus swore that you could hear a pin drop, the Hall was so silent.  
He subtly elbowed Cassius and pointedly started to clap, the rest of his House mates immediately followed. The ‘Puffs and ‘Claws soon joined them. The Gryffs looked as though they had been robbed and only a few clapped as Potter cautiously made her way to the Slytherin table.

Marcus, having been seated with the wall behind him and next to the First Years, was surprised when Potter stopped near him and carefully sat down next to him - the other Firsties had subconsciously avoided him, even Malfoy who acted as though he was superior and nothing could touch him.

After that shock, the sorting continued as normal and ended with “Weasley, Ronald” being sorted into Gryffindor (to no one’s surprise, and the Twin Terrors exaggerated his welcome) and “Zabini, Blaise” into Slytherin.

Dumbledore made his inane “speech” and finally, the feast began.

Of course, Malfoy had to open his mouth.

“How did _you_ end up in Slytherin?” he asked rudely. “I thought you’d end up in _Gryffindor_ like your parents.”

Marcus noticed the minute flinch from Potter and narrowed his eyes on Malfoy.

“I didn’t know,” Potter’s quiet voice quivered.

Marcus and Lucian exchanged quick glances and Marcus decided to put a stop to the questioning immediately. “Leave her be, Malfoy,” he growled.  
The blonde idiot briefly paled and quickly paid more attention to his food than before and Marcus was left to realise that Potter hadn’t even begun eating.  
Her plate was still empty.

“Eat, little one,” he muttered quietly to her.

Potter jumped and looked at him in surprise, before cautiously moving to take some food. She briefly stopped and looked at him as though questioning if she was truly allowed, he had to nod before she put some food on her plate.

Marcus frowned. It was far too little food.  
He noticed Lucian staring at him, when he raised an eyebrow in questioning the other boy made a small head movement and Marcus rolled his eyes.  
He sighed quietly and put some more food on Potter’s plate, before turning his attention back to his own food as though nothing had happened. It didn’t stop him from noticing her shock, before she took a leaf from his book and quietly began to eat.

When the food disappeared and was replaced by dessert, he noticed her eyeing the treacle tart but made no move to get any. It was up to Marcus to give her one and received yet another look of shock.

He wondered what kind of life she had to have lived that made her afraid to _eat_ . He paused suddenly.  
It was so _obvious_ , the signs were all _there_ and still it took him this long to see it. Another glance at Lucian, showed the he too had reached the same conclusion.

Potter was malnourished, jumped or twitched or flinched at the smallest thing, needed clear signs that she was allowed to _eat_. The faint scars on her hands and what he could see of her - too thin - wrists also told a story.

Suddenly it was no wonder that Potter was sorted into Slytherin. Those who weren’t of _Dark_ families, and even some of those who were, tended to have an upbringing that shaped certain personalities that matched with Slytherin house.

He needed to speak with their Head of House and would drag Lucian with him if he had to. Two people having noticed the same signs were better proof and it would be harder to refute, if there were others who had noticed the same then he would drag them along as well.

Slytherins took care of their own, no matter their Families and no matter their Blood.  
  


* * *

  
Marcus patiently waited until the feast was over, listened to the Headmaster’s alarming speech (one thing was for sure, he was going to write home about it and knew others would too), walked to the Common Room in the dungeons, listened with half an ear to the Prefects’ speech for the little Firsties and finally said Firsties were lead away to their dorms.

“Coming?” he asked Lucian, who merely nodded in response.

“Where are you going?” Graham inquired.

“To talk to Professor Snape about one of the Firsties,” Lucian replied.

“I’m coming with, she’s way too tiny,” Cassius said as he rose up.

“The more the merrier,” Lucian shrugged as they made their way out of the Common Room and walked over to their Head of House’s office and knocked.

“ _Enter_.”

Marcus opened the door and let the others step inside before him, before he followed and closed the door behind him.

“Ah, what may I do for you?” Professor Snape inquired and folded his hands on the desk.

“We have concerns about one of the Firsties, Sir,” Marcus replied without preamble.

“Who?”

“Potter,” Cassius answered this time. “She’s way too tiny and Marcus had to put food on her plate for her to even eat, she acted as though she wasn’t allowed to touch the food.”

“She also has scars on her hands and wrists, I’m certain she has more of them,” Marcus added and crossed his arms almost defensively. Everyone had heard the stories that Potter had grown up in the lap of luxury, but no child who had done that acted the way she had. Malfoy was a prime example of a pampered child, Potter was his polar opposite.

Professor Snape narrowed his eyes. “You are certain of this?” he inquired.

“Yes, sir,” Lucian finally spoke with quiet certainty. “We were all close enough to see it, with Marcus being the closest as he sat next to her. Merely seeing her standing next to the other First Years, anyone can see that she’s far shorter than any of them.”

“Observe her as much as you can tomorrow and if you find even more worrying signs, I shall take her to the Hospital wing for a thorough scan after classes,” Professor Snape ordered. “I shall keep an eye on her as well.”

“Yes, sir,” the three agreed.

“You are dismissed.”


	8. Something Strange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Harry-is-not-a-Potter and fem!Harry fic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a ridiculous amount of fun with the title, _it's not even funny_.
> 
> I have yet to decide if I wish to continue this fic in the future or not. I have some ideas where I want it to go, but we shall see.

Harriet quietly followed the half-giant through the magical Alley and nervously kept brushing her bangs over her forehead, she didn’t want a repeat of the Leaky Cauldron. She did not like how they all had crowded around her, greeting her and generally trying to get her attention for some unknown reason. Attention was never a good thing in her experience.

They approached the white building—Gringotts Bank, Hagrid said—and he explained the creatures running it.  
Harriet curtsied before entering the bank after the half-giant, manners had been hammered into her head and it was hard to act so… disrespectfully like Hagrid did. The Goblins were in charge of everyone’s money, so why act so disdainfully toward them?  
She felt great shame watching him emptying his pockets on the teller’s desk, she couldn’t help but visibly cringe and shake her head.

The ride down to her vault (she was almost rich!) was an unpleasant experience and it was wonderful to get back on the surface, though it hurt to walk out into the sunlight from the darkness of the bank.

Hagrid excused himself and Harriet couldn’t help the feeling of disgust and fright at his need to “cure” his nausea with  _ alcohol _ . She kept losing respect for the large man the more she learnt of him.  
It also didn’t seem all that wise to leave a  _ child _ alone in a crowded alley to fend for themself, but as far as Harriet knew it might be the norm in the Wixen World.

She breathed deeply and slowly made her way to Madam Malkin’s. Hesitantly walking inside, she saw a boy who could be her own age standing on a stool where an assistant took his measurements.

“Hello dear, Hogwarts?” another woman gently inquired.

“Yes, ma’am,” Harriet whispered and was promptly ushered up on another stool, then subjected to the same as the boy.

“So, who’re you?” the boy suddenly asked, before remembering his manners; “I’m Draco Malfoy.”

“H-Harriet,” she replied. She did not wish for a repeat of the Leaky Cauldron and was reluctant to speak her surname.

The boy opened his mouth to speak again, when someone else entered the store. It was a regal looking man who could be the boy’s father, judging by their similarities.

Harriet briefly met the man’s eyes and heard his small gasp. She immediately looked down and hoped that he wouldn’t act like  _ they  _ had.  
The assistant was shooed away and suddenly a hand appeared in front of Harriet’s face. Before she could react, the hand forced her head up to look at the man.

She gazed at him in fear, wondering what he would do and he immediately released her chin, completely ignoring the boy’s questions as he removed his wand from his cane and sent something silvery out through the door. It was the first instance of seeing true magic performed for Harriet.

“Patience, Draco,” the man finally said, not unkindly, as he glanced over at the boy before returning his gaze to Harriet. There was something questioning and curious in those silvery blue eyes.  
His gaze didn’t leave her until the door opened once more to let in a woman, just as regal looking as the man.

Harriet accidentally locked eyes with the woman and couldn’t help her stare, the woman’s eyes were so similar to the stormy grey she saw in the mirror.

The woman stopped in her tracks, before she nearly rushed forward. “Oh, Lyra,” she whispered.  
Harriet stiffened as the woman’s hands came to rest on her cheeks. Despite he light touch she was terrified of what could happen.

“But she said her name is Harriet!” Draco exclaimed, unused to being so thoroughly ignored by his parents.

The woman ignored her son. “I am Narcissa, I am your aunt,” she introduced herself. “We’ve been searching for you almost your entire life.” Her voice wavered with unknown emotion.

Harriet stared.

Her entire  _ life _ she had hoped for someone to rescue her from her relatives, hoped for her parents or some other relatives to come to take her away.

Now it seemed it was true? An  _ aunt _ had been searching for her?

“Your mother was so distraught to find you gone,” Narcissa whispered. “It drove her almost mad and she still asks if you have been found.”

Harriet’s thoughts grinded to an abrupt halt. Her mother? Still alive?  _ How was this possible _ ? She opened and closed her mouth several times, before she found the words, so quietly whispered; “Mum’s alive?”

Narcissa’s eyes turned almost sad and Harriet (no, she had been called  _ Lyra _ ) feared the worst. “She is, but it’s a conversation better held at home.”  _ Where it’s private _ , went unsaid.

Home. Did that mean her newly discovered aunt would take her away from the Dursleys? Could she  _ trust _ her? She hadn’t survived this long on Privet Drive by blindly trusting  _ anyone _ .

She immediately went from vulnerable to guarded and narrowed her eyes. She glanced around at the man (Narcissa’s husband?) and Draco (Narcissa’s son?), before returning to Narcissa herself. They were all blonde; Draco and Mr Malfoy were both platinum blonde, while Narcissa had light golden blonde hair. Harriet (Lyra?) had dark, nearly black hair.  
Mr Malfoy and Draco had hair as straight as could be, but Narcissa had controlled curls. Harriet’s (Lyra’s?) hair was wild, the only controlled part of her hair was her bangs which were always kept as straight as possible to cover her ugly scar. A scar vaguely shaped like a realistic lightning bolt.

Mr Malfoy had silvery blue eyes. Draco’s were slightly more to the grey side. Narcissa had the same eyes as Harriet ( _ Lyra _ ?) herself.

“Why don’t we visit Gringotts for a genealogy test to prove my claim of who you are?” Narcissa asked gently. “It will show your name in magic and show the names of your parents.”

Name in magic. It sounded important and far deeper than how naming worked in the Muggle world, where you simply decided upon a name and submitted it to the correct authorities.

Harriet (or was it  _ truly _ Lyra?) nodded in aquiescence.

Thus the measuring of her school robes continued and finished, Narcissa ordered them to be delivered to Malfoy Manor and wouldn’t accept anything else.

Mr Malfoy and Draco went to buy the rest of Draco’s school things and ensured that they would buy for  _ Lyra _ as well. Narcissa and Harri— Lyra went back to Gringotts.

Narcissa walked up to a teller, nodded politely when the Goblin raised his head and ordered a genealogy test to be done to prove a claim.  
The Goblin ordered another to take them to the correct office and correct Goblin.

Harr— Lyra was impressed by their efficiency and had to struggle to keep pace with the Goblin and Narcissa. After that, it was a simple case of cutting one finger, drop three drops of blood on a special parchment and then wait a few moments as the blood soaked into the parchment.

_  
Name: Lyra Belladonna Lestrange _

_ Date of Birth: July 1st, 1980 _

_ Mother: Bellatrix Sagitta Black _

_ Father: Rodolphus Quintus Lestrange _

  
Harriet— no, it truly _ was _ Lyra— stared down at the parchment. She had never been a Potter in truth. Her true name hadn’t been Harriet Jamie Potter.  
Finally, she raised her head to look at Narcissa.

“I am Narcissa Malfoy, née Black,” her  _ aunt _ said. “Younger sister of Bellatrix Lestrange, née Black.”


	9. By the Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Werewolf!Harry and, as per usual, fem!Harry.
> 
> This is merely half of what I've written, I have yet to decide whether I wish to continue or not (and may rewrite the whole damn thing).

Acacia wasn’t entirely certain exactly how long she had roamed the British forests, it had been over a year. Possibly close to a year and a half, which meant that she was seventeen and it also meant that winter was approaching.  
She wasn’t certain if she would be able to survive another winter, the last one had been hellish and she wasn’t certain how she still had all fingers and toes intact.  
The desperation she had felt then had made her realise that she could switch to her wolf form at will and not only forcibly during the full moon, she wondered if that had been what had saved her.

Weeks passed and she hadn’t eaten much at all during that time and was certain that she looked emaciated under her fur. Last time she ate was two days ago, when she had managed to catch a rabbit. It had barely even taken the edge of her hunger.

  
A sound makes her stop in her tracks, she crouched down slightly to make herself smaller and less noticeable—something not easy to do as all Werewolves are larger than common wolves, even a runt like herself. She let herself sniff quietly and realised her grave error; she had wandered into a pack’s territory and a rogue like her would most likely not be welcomed.

Between one blink and the next, she found herself surrounded by five wolves; they were Werewolves like herself. They growled at her as they circled around her, gauging her. She knew they were determining whether she was a threat or not, a pack would have young and those needed to be protected.

A part of her wanted to snap back at them, while another wanted to submit. A deep, warning growl prevented her from doing either and the two wolves in front of her immediately parted to let through another as they lowered their heads in submission.

It was obvious that it was the Alpha. She couldn’t help but stare at him, she had never seen a wolf of his size. He towered over them all—he was _literally_ bear sized—and his piercingly blue eyes were focussed on her as he approached her. Her instincts screamed at her to lower her gaze and to submit, but another part of her was too stunned to do anything.

A growl was her only warning before he slammed into her, forcing her down on the ground and her instincts immediately reacted. She rolled over and exposed her throat in submission. The silver wolf sniffed at her throat, gave a warning nip, before he moved aside enough to allow her to roll back on to her belly.  
She licked under his chin in further submission, before she carefully rose back up on her feet— _paws_ , or whatever. Human sayings were confusing as a wolf.

The Alpha motioned with his head for the others to return from where they had come and levelled Acacia with a meaningful look as though commanding her to follow as well. She complied.

They didn’t walk far before they encountered more wolves, all of them larger than herself and she couldn’t help the brief feeling of resentment. She had always hated how much smaller than everyone else were and even as a werewolf, she was much smaller. Larger than a common wolf, yes, but still small for a werewolf.

She noticed the reason why they all had been in the area, they had been on a hunt when they had noticed her trespassing on their territory. They had taken down several deer and they started dragging them toward their settlement, the Alpha took the largest kill and whenever he noticed that she strayed too far from him, he growled warningly. His message was clear, she was to stay near him where he could keep a watchful eye on her even though there were others in the hunting party who could do so.

Once they reached the settlement, those who were dragging their kills dropped them off in what she guessed was the designated area. Acacia waited awkwardly for instructions from the Alpha and endured the curious looks from the others, it made it all the more awkward when the others started shifting back to their human forms. It was clear that nudity wasn’t anything they put much thought on, wolves did not care about such things. Unfortunately, she was still too much _human_ to feel comfortable transforming along with them and because she didn’t wish to show them her scars, least of all the one which would inform them of who she was.

The Alpha remained as a wolf for longer as he lead her further in toward what she assumed were the huts were they lived. _Dens_ , Acacia’s mind corrected.

Finally, the Alpha shifted too. “Lileas,” he said and Acacia was startled by his deep voice. “Care for her.”  
He looked to an auburn haired woman as he gestured toward Acacia.

“Yes, Alpha,” Lileas bowed lightly as he walked past her. She then smiled warmly at Acacia. “Follow me.”

They walked over to a hut, Lileas slipped inside after motioning for Acacia to wait and when she returned she held cloth and some soap in her hands. They resumed walking away from the settlement to a river.

”It’s safe for you to shift to your human form, there’s only us here,” Lileas reassured her.

Acacia still hesitated for several minutes while Lileas waited patiently. Finally she shifted back to her human form, it was the first time she stood before another person in her human form since last winter. She was as naked as the day she was born and she couldn’t help but hunch in on herself and self-consciously cross her arms across her chest.

“Oh,” Lileas breathed, “that explains a lot.” Before Acacia could ask what that meant, Lileas continued to speak. “What’s your name?”

“Acacia,” her voice came out as a hoarse whisper due to lack of speaking.

“Pleased to meet you, Acacia,” Lileas smiled. “Let’s get you clean, yeah?”  
With those words she shed her light dress, grabbed the soap and went into the water where she waited for Acacia to follow her.

Acacia wasn’t certain what she thought of Lileas, but she did appreciate the other woman’s patience with her. Eventually she followed her into the water, which was surprisingly warm (she suspected magic), where Lileas ended up helping her with her hair while she focussed on getting the dirt and grime off her skin. She hadn’t had a proper bath in too long, not with soap anyhow.

Once they got out of the water, Lileas wrapped her up in a towel and sat her down on a stone as she got to work on her hair, trying to disentangle as much as possible and cutting it to a more manageable length.

“I wanted to ask, how long have you been a werewolf?” Lileas eventually asked as she handed Acacia a dress, the dress hung loosely on her.

“About a year and a half,” Acacia replied, her voice growing slowly stronger. “Summer last year.”

“And you’ve managed to shift into your wolf outside of the full moon already?” Lileas blinked, but then continued, “then again, last winter was pretty cold. Desperation can do that.”

“Yeah,” was all Acacia could reply to that.

“Come, I’m sure there’ll be dinner ready soon.”

Acacia was relieved that Lileas didn’t grab a hold of her, she had reached her limit of how much touching she could handle. No matter how wonderful it had felt while the older woman tended to her hair.  
They walked back to the little village in companionable silence where indeed dinner was nearly ready to be served.

“Oh, you must be the new girl!” an older woman exclaimed when she saw the, approach and immediately several people around the, turned their attention to her. “Oh, you’re skin and bones, poor girl. We’ll have to start small and gradually give you more food.”

Acacia rubbed her arm in clear discomfort. She felt every single scar that manifested on her wolf’s fur as discolourations and couldn’t help but think that they would consider her weak for them. Fortunately, it seemed that most realised that she was uncomfortable with their stares and graciously turned back to whatever they were doing prior.

“I am Alcmene,” the woman said as she cautiously approached. “I am in charge of the… kitchens, I probably should call it.”

“Acacia,” she whispered, suddenly so very shy.

“Go with Alcmene, I’ll join you soon,” Lileas suddenly said. “I need to do something quickly.”

Acacia turned in uncertainty, before she bit her lip and nodded. She supposed she would be able to endure Alcmene, she was similar in personality to Mrs Weasley (she wondered if the Weasleys missed her) though not as overbearing.

Alcmene smiled reassuringly and waved her along to the fires, sitting her down nearby as she continued to supervise their food. “Remember, the Alpha always eats first before the rest of us are allowed to start. It’s happened before that a new pack member hasn’t been aware of that rule if they have been packless before being found by us.”

“I’ll remember that,” Acacia shyly smiled in thanks. She wouldn’t want to embarrass herself by starting to eat before she was allowed to.

It didn’t take long for Lileas to return and join her in watching the food preparations, soon the rest of pack began migrating there as well. Food were handed out, but none began to eat before the Alpha joined them, got his food and gave his permission for everyone to begin.  
Acacia ate carefully, too aware what would happen if she stuffed herself. A lifetime of starvation did that. She wasn’t engrossed enough in her eating to not notice that someone were staring at her, but she chose not to see who that was and only hoped that it was merely because she was new and nothing else.

Afterward she was informed by Lileas that she would be living in her spare room until they could organise something else for her.

The weeks that followed were curious, everyone seemed so adamant that she would not need to help out and instead focussing on regaining her health. Even the Alpha, who she had learned was _Fenrir Greyback_ , told her the same thing.  
Eventually, though, she managed to convince them to give her some menial task that didn’t require too much energy, which ended up being mending clothing. Fortunately she knew how to do it and do it well, much due to it having been one of her many chores in the Dursley household.   
She didn’t know what to do about the appreciation she received.

Winter finally set in and she was terribly relieved that she wouldn’t have to endure another one alone in the forest. The huts, or _dens_ , were properly warded from the cold and she ventured outside as little as possible.

She had been allowed to move from mending to also sewing and she found it surprisingly therapeutic. She was also getting to learn about werewolf culture and even history to help her adjust to life in the pack. On top of that, they were teaching her magic. Werewolf magic, they called it. It needed no conduit like a wand, though there were wolves who still carried the wands they had bought as 11-year-olds, but they primarily only used them whenever they needed to blend in among wizards.  
She mourned the loss of her own wand, certain that the Dursley’s had destroyed it and the rest of her meager belongings after she ran away after the bite.

In the middle of winter she no longer looked skeletal, merely thin and could eat more than before though still less than the others. A perk with winter was that she was able to cover her scars without anyone reacting.

With the rapidly approaching spring came the _Heat_. Both Lileas and Acacia hid in their den, the previous in support of the latter. Both of them were so called submissives and neither had found a mate.  
Acacia, for her part, found it odd that Lileas hadn’t found anyone. For herself she doubted that anyone would desire the broken creature that she was, no matter what her treacherous heart attempted to tell her.

The Heat fortunately only lasted for a few days and everything returned to normal once more. Granted, no one actually lost their mind, as many seemed to believe, but were fully in control of themselves.

Acacia found herself loving living with a pack and she couldn’t tell if she had ever felt as welcome as she did with the pack. Granted, the Weasleys had tried, but she had always felt like an outsider among them.  
She was certain that some had figured out that she was Acacia Potter, but none seemed to care. Even Alpha seemed to care little of it, to him it only mattered that she was a werewolf and part of the pack and thus under his protection. He had told her as much when he once inquired about her true identity and had left it at that.

She quietly wondered where the Fenrir Greyback of the horror stories she had heard was. Yes, he didn’t care for wizards and yes, he had bitten young children. However, it seemed that it had only been to protect them from a life of abuse and neglect.  
A part of her secretly wished that she had been rescued in that manner from her relatives.

Full moons with a pack was different from spending them alone, it was less agonising and it was somehow easier to remember what had happened during it once she had time to search her memories—they told her that it would become easier the older she got. It was, however, awkward to wake up in the late morning surrounded by the entire pack. All as naked as the day they had been born.  
It was easy to single out those who had either been born werewolves or had been turned young, they cared little about nudity. Those who had been turned later in life tended to retrieve clothing quicker, but still didn’t care overmuch. The few like Acacia, who had yet to come to terms with it, tended to feel embarrassment and quickly dashed of to their respective dens for clothing and for a moment to calm down.

  
It was late spring when she decided to properly explore the surrounding area, remaining well within territory borders and within hearing distance from the rest of the pack. She didn’t want to tempt fate more than she had already done in her short life, as some of her scars could attest to.

Really, she was merely frolicking in her wolf form and enjoying the freedom of living in the middle of a forest. Life was better than she had ever dared to hope for and no one expected her to save the Wizarding World and she didn’t have to endure their fickle whims. She was just Acacia, a part of the pack.

The wind was blowing in the wrong direction for her to smell the danger and her concentration on her surroundings had slipped enough that she didn’t hear it in time to avoid it.  
A bear had entered pack territory, found her and determined her an easy victim, and swiped at her with a massive paw. It hit her in the shoulder and she was certain it was dislocated from the force of it and she could feel the blood where its sharp claws had penetrated her skin. She went down with a canine scream and a quieter whine as she desperately tried to scramble away from the bear.


	10. This is the truth (that’s what they want you to believe)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fic where James and Lily were a couple of years older than their canon counterparts and they ended up with a child only a year after graduating Hogwarts (September 1977) and named her Hadriana Lily Potter. They unexpectedly find themselves with a child a few years later (July 1980) and name him Harrison James Potter. They still go under the Fidelius due to the Prophecy, they still end up betrayed, Sirius still ends up in Azkaban and the Potter siblings still end up with the Dursleys.
> 
> The fic begins before Hadria's Sixth Year and Harry's Fourth Year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been sitting on this fic for months now, debating whether or not I will publish three and a half pages out of twelve written. I finally figured, why the hell not ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> I definitely plan on continuing this fic one day, because I have PLANS. Though I might rewrite the beginning a bit first.

Hadria was forced to watch Fred and George pull Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny off to the woods, while she was pulled—unwillingly—into the other direction. Harry being safe was the only reason she managed to keep the panic at bay, Harry was the most important one.

She was pulled around by panicking people in every direction and she was hopelessly lost, but guessed that she had to be somewhere around the middle of the large camp judging by how far away the forest seemed to be. People were running or fighting for their lives and Hadria could do nothing less. She fought those _Death Eaters_ and their sympathisers coming near her, she fought them as _viciously_ as they fought her and anyone nearby. They weren’t going to harm innocents as long as she could help it and she held nothing back. Sending cutting and blasting hexes at them and forcibly ignored the gory results as she continued to fight the next and the next.

Clearly her zealous desire to learn as many curses, jinxes and hexes as possible to best protect Harry has paid off. She was a Defense Against the Dark Arts prodigy for a _reason_.

  
  
She was getting tired, having fought a seemingly _endless_ stream of enemies though she knew it was an exaggeration. Her current opponents were no less than _three_ and none of them held back. She did her best to protect herself, thinking of how Harry would react if she didn’t make it back to him. She couldn’t leave him to fend for himself at the _Dursleys_.

Suddenly the ground exploded at her feet, sending her flying.

__________________________

Viktor held nothing back and damn the consequences of using Darker spells on British Soil, his attackers didn’t deserve any leniency from him. The British hypersensitivity to anything _Dark_ was ridiculous and had only ever hindered them when fighting against so called Dark Witches and Wizards.

He viciously cut down his current opponent, who fell down with a gurgle, and he moved on to the next in his attempt to get away from the battlefield to safety. He had been separated from his teammates when they had tried to get to the safety of the forest and he could only hope that they were all alive. He wasn’t even entirely certain how he had ended up where he was, one moment he had been with his teammates and the next he was dragged away from them by panicked people.

Dispatching his new opponent with laughable ease, he turned around and spotted a young woman—a teenager, _possibly_ near his own age—fighting against no less than _three_ opponents and somehow holding her own despite her clearly flagging energy. His heart leapt up his throat when the ground at her feet exploded, sending her flying. In a fortunate, using the word loosely, turn of events it brought her closer to him and he didn’t even think when he leapt into the fray. Protecting her as she got her bearings back and he was grudgingly impressed at how she had managed to keep these men (or women, masked as they were and casting silently) at bay for so long on her own.

He managed to down one of the three, when the girl offed another while still on the ground. Together they dispatched the last one with ease.

Viktor, without letting his guard down, held out a hand to the girl to aid her up. Finally having a moment to look at the one he had fought alongside, he saw that it was one of those who had sat in the VIP box amidst a sea of redheads, a boy similar to herself next to her—brother and sister, he had guessed then.  
The girl gazed warily at him, before steeling herself and grabbing his hand, letting him pull her up on her feet. She stumbled from her exhaustion, but he had held on and helped her steady herself.

“I am Viktor,” he said with his heavily accented English, guessing that she had to be English.

“Hadria,” she replied after a beat, while giving him a _look_ as though to say _I know who you are_.  
The cons of being an internationally known Quidditch player, introducing yourself was unnecessary and yet it was the height of arrogance to _not_ introduce yourself.

“Let us get to safety,” he said after a moment and received a tired nod.

They carefully made their way through the ruins of the camp and were, fortunately, not attacked on their way to the woods.  
They walked far in until Hadria stumbled over a root in her increased exhaustion, Viktor barely managing to grab a hold of her in time due to his own exhaustion. A gruelling game of Quidditch, a meager amount of sleep and having to fight for his life was making itself known.  
Without speaking, they agreed to stop and rest then and there, both leaning against the same large tree.

Both far too exhausted to speak, waited there and hoped that someone friendly would find them and tell them when it was safe.

It felt almost like an age before a silvery weasel, a Patronus, stopped in front of them and spoke with a voice unknown to Viktor but had to be someone Hadria knew.

“We’re all safe, the Death Eaters and their sympathisers are gone or arrested,” the voice said. “ _Please_ , come back to the camp.”  
The voice clearly refused to believe that Hadria could be dead or mortally wounded, all the man’s hope and desperation clear as day to hear.

Viktor and Hadria shared a glance and both rose up, with liberal help from the tree behind them. They slowly made their way through the trees, aiding each other in keeping their balance if they stumbled—though Viktor very nearly dragged her to the ground with him each time due to her smaller stature, yet they both managed to remain on their feet.

Before breaking the treeline, Viktor spoke for the first time since their introductions and agreement to get to safety; “May I owl you?”  
They had fought together and he wanted to get to know Hadria.

Hadria looked at him with exhausted surprise, but nodded with a faint smile. “I would like that.”

Finally making their way out of the woods, they saw many waiting for their friends and family to emerge.

“Hadria!” A young boy’s voice yelled over the loud murmuring and soon he got through the throngs of people. 

“Harry!” Hadria replied and ran to the boy, hugging him fiercely when they met. Exhaustion temporarily forgotten.

The gaggle of redheads Viktor had seen them with during the game shoved their way through the crowds and all of them converged on the two siblings, joining them in their hug.  
Before Hadria was swept away, she looked over her shoulder and graced him with a thankful smile.

Viktor nodded in reply and returned her smile with a small one of his own, before he went in search for his team.

__________________________

In the coming weeks, the two exchanged many letters and Viktor learned that Hadria was Hadriana Potter, elder sister of Harrison “Harry” Potter. He learned that the two siblings both loved to play Quidditch and were both on one of their school teams, Hadria a chaser and Harry a seeker, and that the World Cup was the first time either of them had attended a professional game.

He was surprised to learn that Hadria was turning 17 the coming September and that Harry was four years his junior as both had initially seemed younger from his initial assessment when seeing them in the VIP box. Hadria’s prowess in duelling had then changed his perception and in hindsight he wasn’t surprised to learn her age.

He found himself eagerly awaiting the siblings’ combined letters, so much so that his parents and his younger brother noticed it. They began teasing him good-naturedly for it and he would merely scowl at them, though he wasn’t truly angry. Merely exasperated with their antics.

__________________________

Hadria and Harry came to cherish their new friendship with _the_ Viktor Krum and they bonded over being famous and all the annoyances it brought. Viktor for being a professional Quidditch star while still attending school, Harry for being the supposed “Boy-Who-Lived” and Hadria for being his sister (and self-proclaimed protector).

Viktor was also the one who revealed to them that the Triwizard Tournament was to be reinstated and would be held at Hogwarts, while both Arthur and Percy had merely hinted to them, Hermione and the Weasley children what was to come without saying much at all.

Thus, when the time came to return to Hogwarts they could gleefully inform the pompous Draco Malfoy that he wasn’t the only one who knew about it. Of course, as a result they had to tell their friends how _they_ knew, without mentioning Viktor’s name. Ron was in a foul mood for not having been told immediately by his best friend, but eventually managed to let go of his anger when they neared the school and apologised for his reaction.

Upon arriving at school and having Dumbledore inform them of the Tournament, they could remain calm though they were disgruntled about the lack of Quidditch. Neither sibling had any desire to enter no matter what, though the Weasley twins began planning on how to trick Dumbledore’s age line and tried to rope in their best friends Lee and Hadria into helping them. Especially since Hadria would turn 17 at the end of the month.

The next letter from Viktor informed them that he would be a part of Durmstrang’s delegation and both were delighted to be able to meet their friend. For Harry it would be for the first actual time and Hadria the second, neither counted seeing him during the game nor during the short time he spent in the VIP box.

Suddenly the evening of October 30th couldn’t come fast enough.


End file.
